The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection (23 page)

“
Oh… hello, Mrs. DeGroot.
Were we going to begin rehearsals today? I’m so sorry, I
forgot.”

“
Good morning, Mrs. James.
I’m not really ready for a full rehearsal yet, but I wonder if I
could just borrow three or four of your students for about a half
hour?”

Randi looked relieved. “Of course. Who will
you need?”

Helen checked her list. “I’d like to see
David, Tyler, Melissa, and Jennie, please.”

“
Okay, the students Mrs.
DeGroot asked for — David Tyler, Melissa, and Jennie. We’ll see you
in a little while.”

The four students called rose and came
toward her. Helen wasn’t sure where they would work, but she’d walk
around until she could find something. Maybe the cafeteria? She
headed that way, the children dutifully following her. Jennie and
Melissa asked about the play, peppering her with questions.

“
Do I have a lot of
lines?”

“
You have several. All of
you do.”

“
So are we practicing
separately because we have the most lines?”

“
Yes.”

“
Where are we
going?”

“
I thought we’d go to the
cafeteria. We have to find a place where we can read
aloud.”

“
Okay. Mrs. James was gonna
show some little kid movie. I’m glad we’re missing
that.”

Well, at least this rehearsal rates above a
kiddie movie.

Rounding the corner and reaching the
cafeteria, she groaned aloud. Adults filled the room. No empty
tables here.

“
Good morning, Helen. Are
you and these students joining the congregational meeting?” Roger
Tanner, the school counselor and a member of the church consistory,
greeted her.

“
Oh! No, I’d forgotten
about that. I’m looking for a place to rehearse for the Christmas
pageant with these students.”

“
Ah. Well, you’re welcome
to use my office. That will be a lot quieter. Come with me.” He led
the way to the front of the building and unlocked the door to his
office. Thankfully, the room included a round table and four
chairs. Roger pulled his desk chair over to the table.

“
Here you go. Just turn out
the lights and close the door when you’re done. I’ll come back and
lock up after the meeting.”

“
Thank you,
Roger.”

She and the students settled in seats around
his table.

Half an hour later, she dismissed the
students to go back to their Sunday School department. The general
story was good, but she’d have to do some rewriting. She’d been so
sure that David would do well as the father reading aloud to his
children. But the boy was unsure of himself in the part, and wasn’t
sure he wanted to read so much. He finally stopped and asked, “Mrs.
DeGroot, can’t I just be one of the kids?”

Maybe it would be better to have an adult be
the father. The person doing those lines wouldn’t even have to
memorize the part — since the character was basically reading out
of a book, the lines could be hidden inside whatever book was being
used as a prop.

Once the kids were back in their Sunday
School classes, she returned to the auditorium. Last year, the
pageant had been held in the VanEerden’s barn. It was a wonderful
experience, but this year, Carol and Les had decided to sell their
farm. Fortunately, arrangements had been made to hold all church
services in the auditorium, so the pageant would take place there.
Thanks to a strong and active theater department, the high school
boasted excellent lighting and sound systems and rooms full of
props and costumes. She had a meeting set up with the theater
director so that she could familiarize herself with the backstage
area, but since she had time before Paul and his family would be
ready to leave, she decided to walk through.

She stepped onto the stage, envisioning the
story she’d written. The father and his family would be over there,
to the left. The stable would be off to the right. There were just
enough students to depict Joseph, Mary, three shepherds, and three
Wise Men. And an innkeeper. As long as she didn’t lose any more
students, it would work.

“
Are you lost?”

She spun around at the sound of the voice
behind her. It was the tall, handsome man from the grocery store.
“Oh, hello again. I was just trying to block out the scenes in the
Christmas pageant.”

“
Ah, yes, the Christmas
pageant. It’s good that you’re starting early.”

“
I have to. I only get the
kids once a week for now. Twice a week starting next month. What
about you? Was there supposed to be a class here in the
auditorium?”

“
No, I was at the
congregational meeting in the cafeteria. Matt asked me to come here
and get his glasses. I guess he left them on the podium after his
sermon.” He walked over to the wooden box and retrieved the
glasses. “Nice to see you again.” He left, and once again she
admired his retreating figure. He’d come for Pastor Sikkema’s
glasses. He had the same sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes as
the pastor. Was he related? Why hadn’t she seen him
before?

Get a grip! He’s just here for a visit.
Forget about the way your heart melts when he looks at you. You’re
too old for that nonsense.

She continued her tour of the stage. But a
part of her couldn’t stop wondering, despite the warnings to
herself.

Mike set his
phone down carefully, afraid he might break
something if he gave in to his emotions. The news he’d just
received from his secretary would set him back a full month. He’d
thought everything was ready for next month’s article in his series
called Senior Getaways, but now that wouldn’t be happening. Well,
not any time soon. His best reviewer was quitting.

Seniors loved to travel — well, most
seniors, anyway. They had the disposable income and the time to go.
But they needed special amenities, sometimes. Close to medical
care. Special medical equipment. Wheelchair accessibility. Hearing
aids. Guides. Slower paces on tours. Air conditioning was a must.
Lots of resorts claimed that they were set up to handle seniors but
didn’t deliver. This series was aimed at showcasing the best
vacation spots for the elderly.

So that left him. Normally he would simply
pick a spot, go there, take pictures, and write a quick article,
but right now he needed to focus on his mother.

Except the lady remained stubbornly in her
apartment, refusing to go anywhere, despite their appointment with
the specialist.

After Mike’s first Sunday in town, Loretta
had flatly refused to leave the apartment, even to go to church,
stating simply that she “didn’t feel up to it.” Many evenings she
didn’t even come to the table for dinner, insisting she’d just heat
up a can of soup.

And now this.

“
I’m calling 9-1-1. Maybe
they’ll have a way to get you out of that room.”

“
Go ahead. You’ll just get
in trouble for sending a false alarm.”

“
We’ll see.” Using his
smart phone, he located the number for the local sheriff’s
department, hoping that the person answering would be friendly
enough to listen to his dilemma.

“
Ottawa County Sheriff’s
Department, Zutphen office. Greta speaking. How may I direct your
call?”

“
Hello, Greta. I’m not sure
if you can help me, but I’m Mike Sikkema. I’m—”

“
Sikkema? Are you related
to Pastor Sikkema?”

“
Uh, yes. I’m his brother.
Anyway—”

“
Fine man, Pastor Sikkema.
We love him. What can I do for you?”

“
Well, our mother isn’t
feeling well, and—”

“
Loretta’s sick? I wondered
why she hasn’t been coming to church lately. She was always right
there in the front row, showing us all what we’re supposed to be
doing. What’s the matter with Loretta?”

“
Well, we’re not sure. We
have an appointment with a specialist in Grand Rapids to try and
find out, but she won’t go.”

“
Won’t go? Why
not?”

“
She won’t leave her rooms.
I told her I’d call 9-1-1, but she called my bluff. I don’t know
who to call.”

The line was silent for so long Mike started
to wonder if Greta had hung up.

Finally, “I’ve got an idea. What time is
Loretta’s appointment?”

Mike checked his watch. “In an hour. We’d
have to leave here in fifteen minutes if we’re going to get there
on time.”

“
Does she have a
phone?”

“
She has a cell phone, but
I don’t know if she’s got it charged up.”

“
Give me the number. If it
doesn’t ring, we’ll use yours and you’ll have to get her on the
line.”

Curious, but encouraged, Mike obliged. And
then he waited.

A moment later he heard his mother’s phone
ringing. Loretta answered in her pleasant voice, but her
pleasantness soon gave way to irritation. The identity of the
caller was a mystery, but whoever it was definitely had the upper
hand. Mike couldn’t remember his mother ever giving in, not being
able to put in a word. But he could hear her irritation.

“
You did
what
?”

“
How could you do this to
me?”

“
What… how… why…
No
!”

“
Leticia Evans, you
wouldn’t
do
that!”

Finally, the call ended. At least it sounded
like it. Something, presumably the phone, crashed into something
else. Footsteps went across the apartment and back again. And then
the door creaked open.

“
I don’t know how you did
it, but I’m ready to go. Let’s get this over with.”

Mike wasn’t sure who Letitia Evans was or
how she managed it. He’d have to meet this Greta. If she was
single, he’d take her flowers. Or take her out for lunch. Anything
she wanted.

But in the meantime he needed to get his
mother to her appointment. The way she was fuming, it could be a
long ride.

Loretta climbed into Mike’s rental car and
set her purse on her lap. She sat ramrod straight and stared ahead,
lips pursed together. Fine. He could use the silence to think of a
solution to his other problem.

The highway leading northeast to Grand
Rapids was lined with trees just starting to change over to their
autumn colors. Mike always felt a sense of peace driving through
the woodsy areas. In Chicago, it seemed, trees were a rare
commodity. How did kids grow up without trees to climb, woods to
play hide-and-seek, never enjoying the cooling shade against the
summer heat?

Michigan had a thriving tourist industry.
After he got home, he’d make some phone calls… Mackinac Island,
Pentwater, Traverse City. He’d heard about an event in Grand Rapids
called Art Prize where the entire city showcased works of art, and
people voted for their favorites. Maybe he could spend a day taking
pictures of the downtown area and interviewing some seniors about
what they saw and how they got around. The Holland Tulip Festival
would take place next spring. Ideas started spinning.

The drive would have been relaxing if it
hadn’t been for the angry woman sitting beside him. He glanced
again at his mother. Loretta still hadn’t uttered a word. Well,
that was fine with him. He activated the voice recorder on his
phone and began dictating. If he didn’t record his ideas now, he’d
forget. Mom sat in stony silence, so by the time he reached the
city limits, he’d outlined a handful of plans. When he had a chance
tonight, he’d put them in writing then look up some phone numbers
and make arrangements to visit. Yes, he could do this.

He pulled onto the section of Michigan
Avenue known as Medical Mile and located the correct building. The
parking ramp was located next to it and he let his mother out
before parking. He panicked when he walked into the medical
building to find his mother had disappeared. He might have known
she wouldn’t wait for him. Spying the building directory, he
located the doctor’s suite number and took the elevator to the
correct office. Loretta wasn’t in the waiting room, so he inquired
at the desk. Yes, Loretta had arrived for her appointment and was
in the examination room. No, he couldn’t go and speak to the doctor
without her permission. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he took
a seat to wait.

Less than fifteen minutes
later, his mother emerged, her coat on and buttoned. She’d probably
never taken it off. Barely acknowledging him, she headed straight
for the door, leaving him to follow.
Did
she even speak to the doctor?

The drive back to Zutphen was as silent as
the trip to Grand Rapids. He tried asking what the doctor had told
her, but she answered in monosyllables, and he eventually gave up.
Before he knew it, he’d returned to the parsonage. He helped his
mother out of the car and saw her to the house. As soon as they
entered the front door, she shook off his guiding hand and went to
her room.

“
Go on back to your room at
the Rose Garden. I’m lying down for the rest of the
day.”

Knowing there wasn’t much else he could do,
he left. It looked like he’d need to find an apartment or something
more long term than his bed and breakfast room. Maybe his brother
would have an idea. He walked over to the church… or rather where
it used to be. Builders had made a lot of progress in the nine
months since the fire. But the building wouldn’t be ready for
worship services or any other activities for a while.